That Which Is, Is Not
by InNyxITrust
Summary: A dystopian Great Britain, ruled by the Iron Fist of 'He Who Is'. Wizardkind is in it's rightful place as rulers of this new society. Every citizen has their place and duty. A young boy Citizen 11-K-32, or Harry Potter comes to find out who he really is and carve out his niche in the world. Rated M for Strong Content. Severus:Mentor. Eventual Tom Riddle/Harry Potter. James:Bashing


The Other Side of That Which Is - Chapter One

Streams of blue and violet magical tendrils poured forth from the metallic node set into the wall on the west end of the room. They arced through the air before landing on the outstretched palm of a middle aged woman. Her body was alive with magical current. Her mouth was open in constant exhale, her eyes blank and unseeing. Her other hand was locked around the grasp of a younger man. The current sparked around and around his body as well, traveling along his arm to yet another body. And on it went, increasing in power with each additional host. The last woman in the line of fifteen bodies was literally indistinguishable from the blue-white fire that encircled her body. It leaped from her hand in crackling white ropes to another metallic node set onto the east wall of the room, nearly three times as powerful as when it entered.

A small, black haired boy in a white coat walked down the line, clip board in hand. He made notes on the fatigue levels of the various power conduits; which of them needed substitution and nourishment. And which were nearing their dates of expiration.

He was citizen 10-K-32. 10 for the years he had lived. K for his sector designation. And 32 for his identification number within his subset.

He possessed no given-name. He had no friends, no last name. He had no claim nor ties to anyone outside of his sector.

He was a ward monitor, a task to which he applied himself proudly. It was his duty, no…his _privilege_ to maintain the power output to the barriers surrounding the compound he called his home. Or so the Republic would have him believe. The daily propoganda enforced only two options. Believe what 'HE´told them, or _die_.

The men and women before him were comatose. They were given potions daily to keep them in stasis. They acted as converters for the magical energy used in up keeping the wards; they recycled and replenished it with their own magical cores.

10-K-32 had performed his job since he arrived to the compound six years ago. He was supposedly transferred from a collection agency, a storage unit for children with no family or rank designation.

Each day, he and the other 10's had classes from hours seven to fourteen, in which they learned basic reading, writing, mathematics, and history of their nation. They then proceeded to their given-jobs from hours fifteen to twenty-one.

A chime from the security orb hovering in the corner of the room alerted him that it was the end of his shift. A young girl, an 8 by the look of it, walked to him. She took the clipboard, saluted him, and said "Go in the name of He Who Is" before resuming the task he had been doing moments before.

* * *

Severus Snape tread lightly down the row of workstations before him. Each was a raised block of granite with a hollow where a gold cauldron sat. A sensor on the side of each could be altered with the user's wand to regulate the intensity and size of the flame within the hollow.

The room was dimly lit. A soft glow came from the contents of the various brews and the muted flames beneath.

20 students stood behind 20 workstations. All bore looks of intense concentration. As was expected, for each knew the price of failure in the Academy.

Severus cast a glance upon the workstation of a young female 13-B-12. She had only just joined the Academy 3 weeks ago, yet her skills in potion brewing were quickly helping her gain a reputation within her peer group. She glanced briefly at him, and he gave a nod of satisfaction.

He passed down the aisle observing other students when suddenly a male's cauldron to his far left began humming and glowing a fierce magenta.

Severus quickly strode to the workstation. The male, 17-D-01 had a look of sheer terror and panic on his face. "I-I'm sorry Sir! I d-don't know what I did wr-" Severus cut him off with a sharp glare and said in a biting tone "Imbecile! You added the bicorn hairs to the potion _without_ removing it from heat first didn't you? Gazing upon the student's workstation he noticed yet another error and said "And what's this? These are clearly nightinggale _tail feathers_ when the instructions visibly say to use _plume feathers_. You are a disgrace to your family and this Academy 17-D-01. I therefore grant you the sentence of 'Failur-"

Severus was cut off mid setence as the humming potion began emitting white sparks. The contents of the cauldron begin undulating in slow circles clockwise. Severus drew in a sharp breath before calling out to the other students "Cast a level 6 stasis charm on your work, you will not be penalized. Then move with a purpose outside of this lab. Now." Immediately the students followed his directions and moved as one out of the room.

Severus attempted to apply the same charm to the reactive potion before him but the spell wouldn't take. He tried vanishing the contents of the cauldron, but the mixture was so magically charged at this stage that it completely absorbed the spell.

He hurried to the front of the lab where his own desk was located and pushed a blue button on the side of the granite block.

A droning siren could be heard outside of the lab, and heavy steel doors came rolling down from the ceiling to cover the entrances. Severus stepped through a door behind his workstation, and sealed it behind him. Not 5 seconds later, a resounding screech followed by a heavy explosion could be heard, albeit slightly muffled, from beyond the door.

Severus waited for the ventilation system in the lab to kick in; a light came on above the door, flashing soft green, giving the all clear. He left his safe-room to survey the damage to the lab.

Where the idiot student's workstation had been, was now a cooling mass of molten rock. The 6 workstions to the left and right of it were also damaged. But the main thing wrong with his lab were the rows of potions ingredients on shelves along the right wall. Many of the shelves had been pulverized, and what ingredients had been on them were now a conlomerate on the floor and walls.

Severus raised a hand to his temple, feeling a massive migraine coming on. Most of those ingredients were easily replaceable, however a few of them required _special_ diligence to find. And yet others were only found in obscure apothecaries within the lower sectors.

Severus began the process of detoxifying and repairing the lab. He would venture down to the lower sectors today after training was finished for the day.

* * *

10-K-32 quickly marched down the hall towards his dormitory. As he walked down a non-descript gray hall he halted before the framed photograph of 'He Who Is'. He bowed to the Silver Masked Face in the frame, saluted the flag hanging on the wall next to it, and murmured to the orderlies on either side of the photo, "Truth in the name of He Who Is". He continued on down the hall when an amplified voice came from the walls "Attention all 10's. Please report directly to the assembly hall for a directive from the Matron."

10-K-32 sighed…and about faced. He did the same ritual with the photo and flag as he passed and fell into step with the stream of other 10's heading towards the assembly hall.

The children stood at attention, each in his or her own predetermined place in the line. A door on the side of the hall opened and the Matron of the Nursery walked in and to the podium before them. She glanced at them with a tight lipped smile, before declaring,

"Tomorrow marks the day. The day by which you have lived 11 glorious years under the regime of our great Lord, "He Who Is".

"Tomorrow you shall spend your final day in the nursery, before leaving to start your adult lives." She stepped from behind the podium and began a slow walk toward the assembled children. "Whether you turn to the path of Building, the honorable station of Nurturing" she motioned herself, "or a life of servitude in the militia of 'He Who Is'", all are respectable niches in our lives.

"As with all progression days, you will have the honor of taking your reflections; Inspire me with your conviction children. The reflections are that which makes us..." She stopped to look at the rows of children expectantly.

An chorus of "REMEMBER" echoed through the hall.

"Those that help us to have"

"HONOR"

"Those that help us to be"

"STRONG"

"Those that help us to"

"PURIFY"

She looked very pleased and sauntered back to the podium before breathing in and continuing, "Yes my children. Those four laws. To Remember. To have Honor. To be Strong. To Purify.

"Remember the past, those who fought tooth and nail, and those who paid the ultimate sacrifice to secure our glorious nation from the grasp of the corrupt. Be honorable in everything you do. Each step you take in your life will be to honor every other hard working individual you meet, and to honor the collective society. Strength, not just physical endurance, but also mental discipline. Be strong, and you can overcome anything you meet. Be strong and you draw a larger gap between the unworthy ones, and ourselves. Purity...Purity is our core, our fundamental belief. A close brother to Remembrance, Honor, and Strength; it is that which gives us the nation we live in today. It is that which shows the world we are a force to be reckoned with. It is that which He Who Is has dilligently striven for every day. Purify yourself of weakness, of sloth, of disgrace.

"Live by our four laws and you shall be strengthening not only your own resolve, but that of of our nation.

"Now, proceed into the waiting hall until your designation is called and enter your individual reflection booth."

* * *

Harry stood, back straight, hands clasped behind his back. To his left was a gap normally occupied by citizen 10-K-31, a petite girl, currently in her own reflection booth. While to his right stood a burly boy, Citizen 10-K-33.

From an orb hovering in the center of the room came a disembodied voice, "Citizen 10-K-32, please proceed to station number twelve."

10-K-32 walked from the line in a quiet controlled manner to the specified station, lifted aside the sheeting and stepped into the reflection booth. A ministry official in a pale grey robe stood next to a straight backed chair before a wooden table with an iron bowl full of swirling silver filaments, and motioned for him to sit, but this routine was so ingrained into his mind that it was second nature. He sat, pulled the chair forwards, and pressed his face into the surface of the swirling tendrils within the bowl.

The first scene that appeared as the tendrils clear was of a near finished battle. History lessons have told him that it was the final uprising, the quelling of the last rebellion on grounds of what used to be the old magical school, Hogwarts. He saw a group of ragged, tired rebels huddled together behind pitiful sickly blue shields, firing pathetic stunners every now and then.

The line of soldiers approaching them was clean-cut, precise, methodical.

They appeared as a long line of black robed men, women, and teenagers, all clad in grinning masks. 'Death Eaters' rung through his memory. They moved in unison, bending their line from the center until it wrapped around the circle of rebels, and as one began an onslaught of vicious colorful curses

And what a poor lot the rebels were. One haggard witch, grey hair pinched up into a tight bun. A half-breed man, towering over the rest, with a scraggly brown beard. A red-haired girl, barely 19, with striking green eyes. Some other assorted men and women, one with a peg leg and a scarred face, another wearing a garishly yellow robe. And the crowning jewel, a bespectacled old man, silver beard grey with filth, wand held out, sustaining the massive shields surrounding them all.

Yet they were tiring themselves faster and faster. So much that the concentration of their leader, the old man, broke for a millisecond, long enough for several spells to sail through and rebound off the inner walls of the shields taking down the group from within.

A solitary man began to walk from the back of the line of death eaters. They parted for him like fish in the sea, this man robed in dark forest green. He wore a mask himself, yet his was luminescent silver. He strode on until he reached the line of soldiers and stepped past.

The figure surveyed the fallen rebels, the giant of a man wheezing upon the ground, the red haired girl, clutching a wound on the side of her face, blood dripping from behind her pale fingers.

And he began to laugh. Not just any laugh, but a dark, haunting, triumphant laugh.

"It has come to this at last. The end of the end of your charade." His voice was smooth, flowing.

The man turned to face the circle of death eaters, "My faithful followers, you who have cast aside the bonds of slavery of this whimsical society and entered into a realm of truth, purity, and dignity, you who have waited for the day when wizards like these" He gestured dismissively behind him. "Will stop their regime of filth and ignorance. You, who have been steadfast to the end, will be rewarded now beyond your wildest dreams. For you shall the be the heralds of a new era. An era of reclamation, and of enlightenment. Wizarding kind shall retake what is rightfully ours, and crush all who dare say otherwise."

He lifted his wand and the rebels rose as one in the air above the army of death eaters, bodies stiff, eyes darting in fear, pain, and panic.

"For there is no greater honor than that of serving your nation. Of being a true wizard."

A burst of crackling purple energy erupted from his wand, arcing towards the rebels poised in the air. He tilted his head and the silencing charm on them lifted. Where the lightning met flesh, it sizzled and charred, flames igniting and leaping across the space to fall to the ground.

Amidst the screams and cries above, a low whisper began from the center of the army below. It buzzed and swelled, growing from a murmur to a mantra, into a pledge of service. Of Honor.

"He who is…He who is…He Who Is…He Who Is….HE WHO IS. HE WHO IS! HE WHO IS!"

A movement surged through the death eaters, they straightened and stood tall, before snapping off a salute in unison to the man before them, "He Who Is."

The man pointed his wand skywards and a stream of green and black smoke flooded from the tip.

As the death eaters continued to hold their salute, as the rebels continued to burn amidst flames and crackling energy, the face of a skull entwined with a snake shone above them.

"Those that help us to have HONOR"

* * *

The first memory faded and 10-K-32 found himself behind an examination table. To his left and right were witches and wizards clad in navy robes; in front of them were a row of nearly a hundred children no older than 11.

A man rises to 10-K-32's right and spoke, "Ninety-Six of you stand here. You are the finest of our nation's untrained youth.

"Today you will prove your willingness to be strong. Strong enough to enter the Academy. Ninety-Six of you stand here. But only twenty of you will leave today."

He murmured something and a violet dome sprung up to surround the boys and girls. Some had a look of panicked confusion, whilst others were merely tightening their grips on their wands, bending their knees in preparation.

"You may begin to show your Strength…Now"

Immediately several boys and girls ducked to the floor, rolling towards the edges of the wards to keep their backs to the walls. They started to fire off hexes, jinxes, curses, all in quick succession. Of those that did not start offensively, the smarter were quick enough to pull up shield charms or cast illusions to hide themselves. The unfortunate remants however, soon fell to the floor, some from stunners, others from deadlier spells.

10-K-32 watched with a grim set face. Never before had this scene been easy to watch. Never before had it been a simple act of closing his eyes, for he could still hear the spells being called out, the cries of pain and terror from those that simply were not strong enough to please the examiners.

Till eventually the man rose again to call, "Enough!"

The dome fell. The twenty remaining children stepped back into a ragged line, bloodied, bruised, yet unwilling to show any sign of how shaken or afraid they might be.

"Congratulations. You are the strongest of the strong to arrive here today. During your stay at one of our four academies you will be challenged, tested, and tried to your very limits. I know that each and every one of you will live up to that expectation. You are true citizens. You are Strong."

The memory faded once more and 10-K-32 heard a soft echo "Those that help us to be STRONG".

* * *

The gray mists of memory, washed over him and cleared again as he fell into the third and final trip in store for him, noting the washed out quality of the light upon the walls, the cold bench he sat upon, the rows of straight backed children, all age 6, as they watched the scene unfolding in the front of the room.

"Those that help us to purify" echoed in his mind.

He knew this room. He spent every 10th and 11th hour of all his years in this room, learning arithmetic. He knew this scene in particular, just the same way that every child his age knew it. The way they all will have relived it, as they step into their own reflection booth.

A small, quivering child stood in the front of the classroom before a glaring wizard. The child had just been asked to answer a simple multiplication problem; and recite the rules of distributive factoring.

But instead, he answered incorrectly. He answered incorrectly and failed to acknowledge his own mistake. And so the Teacher pulled out his wand and sent a silent cutting hex at the child's upturned palm, punishment for its disobedience. What happened next however, sealed the child's fate.

The child cried out in pain from his punishment. He had shown himself to be weak. A waste.

Which brought 10-K-32 to the point in the memory which he recently entered.

The teacher raised his wand to his own throat and spoke in an amplified voice "Purifier to the East Wing, Mathematics Room Six".

The children waited several moments, until the door opened and a lone white robed woman glided into the room.

The teacher looked from his class to the boy and then back again, "This boy here, Citizen 6-7-K, has been lazy. Too lazy to learn and better himself. He has been not only lazy, but also undisciplined. He has been weak. Note his tearful eyes, the pitiful quiver of his knees, the pain he openly displays on his face at his rightfully deserved punishment. He is a disgrace to not only our nation, but all of Wizarding kind."

He nodded to the woman, the purifier, who cast a silent immobilizing charm at the child before raising her arm in preparation.

The teacher regarded the children solemnly, "Bad influences must be cast out. Weeds must be uprooted. We must PURIFY our nation."

As he said 'purify' the woman's arm began to sweep down and she cried out "Avada Kedavra".

One blinding flash of green light later, the child in question was no more. He fell to the floor, spread eagle, lifeless eyes glossed over.

The children in the classroom shifted in horror on their cold benches before straightening up and turning once more to stare at their teacher. Each had a grim look of determination in their eyes; they would not be the next to fall, the next to die.

10-K-32 sat upright, blinking as his eyes re-adjusted to the lighting of the reflection booth. He pushed the chair away from the table with the pensieve, stood up and said to the robed official, "Thank you for the privilege of reflection" before standing and walking out of the booth.

He drudged along to his dormitory along with the rest of the 10's. Each of them was exhausted from the ordeal they were forced to relive yet again, though none of them would ever dare to express said feelings aloud. He climbed to his bunk and fell asleep with thoughts of how tomorrow would be his last day as a child.

* * *

The boy walks down the line of power conduits for the last time. When he woke up today, he was ushered into the preparation halls by the orderlies. He was given a better fitting set of gray robes, a haircut, and a new designation. '11-32-K'.

It was odd to think that tomorrow he might be one of these men before him, bodies turned into living power converters. Or maybe he would be chosen to enlist in the Militia.

Suddenly he felt an odd twang in the center of his chest. He paused, lifting his hand as though to press it to his heart, when he noticed tiny sparks of magic dancing along his fingertips. He stared bewildered at the scene on his hand oblivious to the fact that the magic was now running along his arms and his upper torso.

It felt as though something was rising within him, like water boiling in a pot, threatening to go over. He felt like he could explode, as though release of whatever this pressure was, was the only answer to the rushing sensation he was experiencing.

And as if in answer to his pleas, his eyes snapped open and his arms were glued to his side as blue, red, white, and violet magical energy poured forth from every inch of his body. He could feel it searing through his veins, pulsing in time to his heart. He saw nothing but the blinding light and then suddenly all was dark. The magical energy receded. He felt strangely….empty. Then he noticed that the lights in the room were out as well. Not only that, but the magical nodes and power conduits were dormant as well.

11-K-32 blinked several times, shocked, before the harsh realization sunk in. He did this. Somehow, by some bizarre turn of circumstances he channeled magic through himself, and it shorted the entire conduit out.

There was going to be hell to pay once they get hold of him. If he was even allowed to live.

In that split-second, 11-K-32 decided he didn't want to die. Even if it meant disobeying the laws and running from the scene of his accident. He was leaving. He had no idea where to, but even so, he turned and started running.

He burst through an emergency door on the side of the wing into the cold windy air of the grounds outside. He looked around in desperation before running and leaping up to grasp the sill of a window on the side of the building. He heaved himself up and from there grasped the edge of the roof. He pulled up and up, ignoring the angry cries of his muscles, and started to sprint along the rooftops of the wing he was in previously.

He heard a low hum as emergency conduits were fired up and a siren began to blare; the sign that a child was on the run. Hordes of robed officials swarmed from the doors of various building and upon seeing his racing form on the roofs begin to fire spells towards him. He darted and dodged, and pushed himself faster than he had ever done so before.

11-K-32 could see the end of the rooftop growing nearing him in the approaching distance. Not 5 feet past that was the high wall of the barricade to Sector K.

Two options presented themselves as he continued running. One, he would stop, let them catch him, most likely torture him, and then kill him. Two, he would take an almost suicidal jump over the barricade into god knows what of sector J.

With the flashback of his supposed 'purity memory' fresh in his head, he decided.

Suicidal jump it was.

He put on one last burst of speed before launching himself out and off of the rooftop into the void of sky. He barely cleared the top of the wall, before rapidly descending towards the ground.

Tucking his body into a ball he hit the ground, bouncing several times, before smacking his head sharply on a coal stained brick building before him. 11-K-32 clutched at his head, as searing pain raced through his entire body. He forced himself to sit up, his joints protesting violently, and to look around his new surroundings.

He was in a dark alley way between two tall brick buildings. He could make out the shape of a door set into one of the walls several meters ahead of him.

11-K-32 was in pain. Extreme amounts of pain. His ankle was throbbing and his right arm was hanging limply from his shoulder, the joint poking out at a wrong angle. He was hungry, afraid, and exhausted. But at least...He was alive.

* * *

Severus stood at the transition point from Sector I to J. The entry guard took a glance at his expensive tailored robe and then the tier 1 death eater emblem stitched onto his breast pocket before swallowing hard, and stuttering "M-my lord, can I assist y-y-you?"

Severus gave him a derisive sneer and waved the official aside. He held his wand against the opaque scanner set into the wall before him. The scanner glowed green for a moment before chiming and flashing blue. The wall shifted and became transparent. A metallic voice came from a speaker above the scanner. "Severus Snape. Tier 1 Party Member. Sector Alpha. Cleared for transition."

Severus sighed. He'd done this exact procedure several times now today. He pocketed his wand and passed through the transparent barrier. The wall sealed behind him as he surveyed sector J.

He rarely came here...and for good reason. Sector I was a production based sector; they manufactured textiles for the higher sectors. As such their buildings were shabby, yet still clean and managed.

Sector J however was disgusting. It was a refinery sector. They purified the coal and ore sent in from sectors L and M. As such, the brick buildings were all covered in an inch thick layer of soot and dust.

Grey people hurried along grey sidewalks from one mundane job to another. The only reason Severus came here at all was a small backwater apothecary near the barricade to sector K. The owner was a sharp, blunt woman that overpriced all her ingredients, yet she was one of few party members that held an outside connection for smuggling in class-C and D contraband ingredients.

He made his way down the main street, finally turning down an alleyway between two large brick buildings. He could see the door to her shop set into the wall several meters down. As he walked towards it he suddenly tripped over a dark form sitting on the ground. He hadn't seen it in the gloomy light.

Severus expected the thing to cry out or tell him to leave its territory; the homeless in this sector were particularly vicious. Instead, he heard a low groan in the soft timbre of a child. He might be a demanding teacher, and a tier 1 party member, but Severus was not heartless. And children were particularly special in Sector A.

He paused and cast a lumos charm. The alleyway filled with a soft blue light. Severus crouched down to get a better look at the child on the ground.

What he saw shocked him. The boy before him was covered in bloody scrapes. His arm and left leg were bent at odd angles and his skin was pale, as he took rapid shallow breaths.

He reached out and tilted the boy's face upwards. The child reacted instantly upon making eye contact. "I'm sorry sir!. Please don't hurt me!. Please don't send me back!"

While Severus' brain was processing the boy's words, his heart however only had time for one detail. The boy's eyes were a startling vivid emerald color. The color of a freshly cast avada kedavra. Eyes he had only seen on one other individual in his life, from during his days at the old wizarding school 'Hogwarts'.

He considered the child's words and looked down the alleyway the boy must have come from. He quickly deduced that the boy must've escaped from sector K. That was a treasonous act in itself. If Severus aided the child, He himself could be charged with treason as well. But those eyes...

Severus looked at the pitiful child in front of him, and thought once more of the other individual with those same gemlike eyes from his past, and made a decision. He softly said, "I'm not going to hurt you child. What is your name?"

The boy's eyes darted briefly up to his again, "S-sir...I'm 11-K-32."

Severus realized the boy had no given-name. He hadn't known they labeled children as mere objects in sector K.

"Well then 11-K-32, I'm going to fix you up. And you'll be coming with me. Understood?"

The boy had a confused look on his face, a flash of hope crossed over his eyes before disappearing. Severus understood that he must have learned to not have hope long ago.

He pulled out his wand, noting how the boy tensed up, before casting a quiet healing charm to ease some of the pain and set the bones straight. The child looked up at him incredulously before saying "Th-thank you sir."

Severus merely nodded before asking if the boy could stand and walk. The child tried, but was obviously too exhausted and collapsed to the ground again. Severus sighed exasperatedly before reaching down and scooping the small child into his arms. He turned and began the trek back to sector A.

* * *

Severus sat on a hard black couch in his living quarters, slowly nursing a glass of scotch as he thought back over the past hour's events.

A boy with reddish-brown hair and striking emerald eyes was asleep, curled into a little ball on Severus' bed. Upon reaching Severus' residence, and being placed on the mattress, his eye's had drooped shut and he passed out.

* * *

The journey from Sector J to Sector C and all those in between had been uneventful to say the least. If anyone thought ill of Severus for carrying a ratty looking child, they quickly silenced their thoughts upon seeing his status and rank.

Upon reaching the first barricade from J to I, Severus repeated his earlier procedure, placing his wand against the scanner. It cleared him to pass through; He had the boy lift his hand to the scanner. It pulsed violet for a moment before shining red "Citizen 11-K-32. Convict Status. Warrant for execution issued by Department of Peace Sector K. Authorization to escort convicted citizen required."

Severus paused and then placed his wand upon the scanner once more saying "Severus Snape. I assume responsibility for Citizen 11-K-32. Identity Verification Code: Charlie-two-two-four-delta-four."

The scanner processed this for a minute and then shone blue and the barricade became transparent as Severus and his charge passed through to Sector I.

This process was repeated for each additional barricade until they reached the wall separating Sectors D and C. Severus was slightly nervous at this stage. Only citizens of half-blood status or higher could enter Sectors C, B, and A.

This barricade was much more heavily reinforced. Instead of a scanner, there were four guards in dragonhide armor and wands held ready in their grasps.

Severus stepped calmly up to them and said, "We will be passing through to Sector C."

The guards motioned for him to step onto a large circular disk set into the stone ground. Carrying the child, he did so. Immediately after, a halo of violet light encircled them, the air became charged with energy. He felt a small sting on his hand and heard the boy hiss in pain, as both of their palms were cut. He held his hand over the ground, palm downwards and motioned for the boy to follow.

Two drops of blood fell to the ground and the light encircling them turned a heavy deep gold color. It dissipated and Severus stepped of the disk with the child in his arms.

A pleasant female voice came from a speaker set into the barricade. "Citizen Severus Snape. Tier 1 Party Member. Sector Alpha. Blood Status: Pureblood. Welcome back to the Inner Sectors Master Snape."

The speaker went silent for several moments before the voice came back. "Citizen **_Harry_ _Potter."_**Severus' grip on the child tightened considerably. It was impossible. "No Tier Designation. No Sector Designation. Blood Status: Halfblood." Severus was reeling in shock. How...how was this small battered boy in his arms a Potter? Did James even know he existed? And how on earth did he have those eyes? The voice came back one more time "Warning. Blood Results for Citizen Harry Potter conflict with pre-existing data for Citizen 11-K-32, Convict Status. Further Instruction Required"

Severus paused for a brief while to decide what he would do. He had the power right now to completely erase any trace of the child's old life. He could figure out how and when this Harry Potter had been born. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure of what to do. He would help the boy to reclaim his status in the party. What a shock it would be to Society when it was revealed that one of James Potter's spawn had been left in Sector K.

"Severus Snape. I am authorizing deletion of prior data for Citizen 11-K-32. I am authorizing re-activation of data for Citizen Harry Potter."

A moment later, the voice replied "Verification of Deletion and Re-Activation. Welcome to the Inner Sectors Harry Potter."

The barricade turned transparent and Severus with his young charge, one Harry Potter, stepped through.

* * *

Harry Potter was in his Bedroom. James' child was in his residence. It was too much for Severus to try and process in one night. He leaned back on the couch and let his eyes droop shut. In the morning, he would get to the root of all of this. He would solve this new mystery.


End file.
